


Worth A Damn

by Saber_Wing



Category: Avengers Assemble (Cartoon), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Avengers Family, Depression, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Pre-Relationship, Protective Steve Rogers, Romance, Self-Worth Issues, Superhusbands (Marvel), Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 01:54:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19097374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saber_Wing/pseuds/Saber_Wing
Summary: That was what it always came down to, wasn't it? Money. Who had the most of it.Tony has a rough day. The Avengers hit a nerve.





	Worth A Damn

Tony Stark was filthy rich. It was such a well-known fact, it almost didn't even bear repeating.

Still, on days like today, it felt like that was _all_ he was good for. He rubbed at his temple, fighting the urge to roll his eyes as he suffered through his teammate's latest, bullshit explanation for why Stark Industries was getting billed.

“....so then, I shot an exploding arrow by mistake. Hulk smashed through the wall – he's such a sore loser, dude. And the bowling alley was _super_ pissed.”

Tony sighed, put-upon. “Remind me again why this is my problem?”

Hawkeye rubbed the back of his head with a sheepish grin. “…because you always pay for stuff?”

Well... _yes,_ technically that was true. Tony sighed irritably, reaching into his back pocket with the air of someone who had to do it multiple times a day. He pressed his lips together, tugging one of many credit cards out of his wallet.

“Try not to destroy anything else today, okay?” He thrust it into the archer's hand, turning back to his work before he could say anything he regretted. “Take care of it, before somebody slaps a lawsuit on me too.” _Again._

“Thanks, Tony!” Hawkeye clapped Tony on the shoulder as he turned to leave, either oblivious to the annoyance he was failing to hide, or paying it no mind. “You're the real M.V.P.”

Tony scowled, swiping a few holograms away with more force than was strictly necessary. It wasn't as if his friends treating him like their own personal debit card was anything new, but today was the anniversary of Jarvis's death. The butler, not the AI – and he was feeling...well. He was _feeling._

He managed to work his way through a few more blueprints before the next inevitable interruption traipsed through the door, a scant twenty minutes later. Sam practically _skipped_ toward him from the entryway.

“Tony! I just had the _best_ idea.”

_Here it comes._

The genius sighed. “I'm listening.”

“Well...”

He suffered through Falcon's _really_ long, _really_ boring explanation of how he'd been designing a great new piece of tech – something about bird flight formations, he didn't fucking know – which was also just a really extra way of asking Tony to fund the project.

Tony reached into his pocket again without even thinking about it, handing Sam the card he'd set aside for the Avengers, and whatever stupid thing they wanted him to pay for that day. “Here. Go crazy. And next time, skip the story and just ask me for money.”

Sam, at least, had the decency to look guilty about it. “You sure it's okay?

He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Yup. Sure. Whatever.”

Tony must really be off his game today, because Sam frowned at him. He looked like he wanted to say something else, but the inventor cut him off, turning back to his blueprints – a clear dismissal. “Save it, kid. It's fine. Seriously. Go, knock it out of the park. Can't wait to see it.”

“If you say so.” Another pat on the shoulder. “Thanks, Tony!”

Uh-huh. Right. Personal Bank of Stark. What else was new? At least the Avengers weren't subtle about shamelessly exploiting it. They didn't care about _him,_ they cared about what he could do for them. If he wasn't fucking loaded, and a tech wiz to boot, they'd probably want nothing to do with him.

Tony jolted.

...whoa, whoa. Where the hell had _that_ come from?

He was Tony Stark. Billionaire. Genius. Philanthropist. He was _amazing._ A fucking delight, God damn it. Who _wouldn't_ want to hang out with him?

He swallowed down the lump in his throat, scowling his way through a few more prototype schematics. After a few moments, however, he switched off the display with a huff, clenching his fists. Who was he kidding? His productivity was shot to hell, anyway. He wasn't going to get any real work done.

There had been times in years past when Tony refused to even get out of _bed_ on this particular day. Now, he wished he'd taken a page out of that book. Maybe he still could. If he left his wallet on the table, no one would even think to look for him.

Well. Assuming nobody nuked Manhattan for the rest of the night.

Tony threaded his fingers through his hair as he turned, startling when he ran face-first into a chest full of Steve Rogers. He jerked back, nearly falling over the table behind him before the super soldier reached out to steady him.

Tony pressed a hand to his chest. “Jesus fuck, Cap.”

“Sorry, sorry. I thought you knew I was there.” Steve held both arms in front of him, palms out. “Just wanted to see what you were up to.”

 _Oh,_ _here we go again._

Tony sighed. He reached into his pocket, thrusting the whole damn wallet into his teammate's hand this time. “Don't bother with whatever story you've cooked up, I don't care. Just take it and go.”

“What?” To Steve's credit, he looked genuinely perplexed. He frowned, brow furrowing. “I don't want your money, Tony.”

“You'd be the first.” The words came out more sullen than he meant them to. “What _can_ I do for you, then? What do you need? If it's something that can wait, I'd appreciate it.”

Cap's face was becoming more and more troubled by the second. His brow furrowed. “Why would you assume I need anything from you?”

Tony scoffed, surprised at the amount of bitterness seeping into his tone. “Why else would you be here?”

Steve blinked. Tony had to fight not to recoil at the gentle concern reflected in his gaze. “I just wanted to see if you were up for a spar. That, or maybe we could watch one of those movies you've been telling me I 'need' in my life.”

“Oh.” Tony was honestly taken aback. “I...sure. Okay.”

Steve frowned. Tony gulped as those gorgeous eyes drilled into him again, bright with worry. His heart skipped a beat, and he could feel his face flush under the scrutiny. “Tony, is everything all right? You seem...”

The team burst into the lab before Cap could finish his sentence, chattering excitedly amongst themselves.

Tony breathed a sigh of relief. Good. If Mr. Red, White and Beautiful had a chance to finish asking that question, Tony would be powerless to resist, and he would have no choice but to answer. Answering would require him to explain why he was depressed, which would make him feel stupid all over again – Jarvis was a decade in the grave, for fuck's sake – and that was just not something Tony needed to add to his all-around shitty day.

He turned his attention to his teammates in the middle of Hawkeye's sentence. The archer was smirking, leaning his weight against Natasha. “...let's all go out, then. Shawarma, maybe?”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Not all of us are careless enough to blow our money on food all week, Clint.”

“Oh, come on, it's fine.” Hawkeye slung an arm around Tony's shoulders. “Stark's good for it, aren't you, buddy?”

Tony stiffened, jerking out of Hawkeye's grip with so much force, the archer actually flinched.

“Yup, good old money bags, that's me.” Tony snatched his wallet from Cap's hand, slamming it down on the table before anyone else could react. “Here. Knock yourself out.” He spun on his heel, storming out of the room before he could humiliate himself any further.

For nearly a full thirty seconds after their teammate's dramatic exit, the Avengers stood dumbfounded, stunned into silence. Tony Stark storming out of his own lab in a huff was...out of character, to say the least.

Hawkeye was the first to recover. “Jeez, what's his problem? I wonder if he's actually mad about that bill from the bowling alley.”

Hulk raised his fist. “I smashed the fridge this morning. It's not my fault the stupid door sticks!”

Falcon glanced down at the ground guiltily. “ _I_ asked him to fund some tech I've been working on.”

“That would explain why he assumed _I_ was coming to him for something.” Steve crossed his arms over his chest, fixing his teammates with a stern glare. “How often do you all ask him for money, anyway? He's not an ATM.”

His teammates side-eyed each other guiltily. “What, and you never have?” Hawkeye questioned, tone significantly more sheepish.

“No. Everything I need, I have here at the tower. Besides, I have my own money. I'd never assume Tony should pay for things I want personally, and neither should any of you. He already funds the Avengers out of his own pocket. We should consider ourselves lucky to have him. I won't have anyone taking advantage of him. He doesn't deserve that. Lay off him for awhile, okay?”

The sound of a ringing cellphone pulled everyone from their discussion. Tony had left it behind – a testament to just how irritated he'd been when he stormed out. The device barely ever left his hand, but there it was, vibrating on the tabletop.

Cap was the first to react. He snatched the phone up, fumbling for the answer button.

The lab's holoreceptors automatically put the call on display. Pepper Potts stood in all of her holographic glory, pursing her lips at the Avengers. “Afternoon, Captain. Is Tony around? He's not answering any of my messages.”

Steve shook his head. “He stepped out for a moment. Hold on, I can flag him down for you.”

“No, wait.” She shook her head, expression pinched, uncertain. “Maybe you guys are a more impartial source, anyway. How's he doing? Is he okay?”

Steve frowned. If he hadn't been worried before, he _definitely_ was now. “Is there a reason he wouldn't be?”

“He didn't tell you.” Pepper narrowed her eyes. She sighed heavily, running a hand over her face. “Of course he didn't.”

Hawkeye smirked. “Tell us what? Did the stock market crash or something?”

“Wait. What's the date?” Natasha's brow furrowed. She took out her phone, fiddling with the display before scowling at it, face stricken. “Shit.”

Thor crossed his arms over his chest, expression drawn with concern. “Is friend Stark in some kind of trouble?”

Natasha sighed. “Today is the anniversary of Jarvis's death – the real one, not the AI. It's in Tony's S.H.I.E.L.D. file. The guy practically raised him. I can't believe this slipped my mind.”

Pepper nodded worriedly, pursing her lips. “He took it really hard. Every year when it comes around, he tends to make himself scarce, drowns himself in work. He insists he's fine, but that's what he does best. Isolates. Pushes people away. He never grieved him. Not properly, anyway.”

Steve sighed. “Thanks for the heads up, Ms. Potts. We'll look after him.”

“I appreciate it. And have him call me when he can, please.”

“Will do.” Steve ended the call, staring down at the receiver for a moment before glancing back up at the others, grim-faced.

“Great.” Hawkeye shifted his weight guiltily, rubbing the back of his head. “Now I feel like an asshole.”

Sam paced a line in front of the table, ringing his hands. “It's not just your fault. _I'm_ the one who came to him, talking about my stupid tech when he was up here by himself, miserable. I knew something seemed off. I should have called him on it!”

“And I smash.” Hulk cracked his knuckles, looking decidedly uncomfortable with the words, for possibly the first time ever. “He pays for that, too. I guess.”

Natasha crossed her arms over her chest. “We can't help him cope if he won't confide in us, but we could stand to be a little more considerate. And Cap's right. We shouldn't be throwing his money out the window all the time, no matter what day it is.”

“But he has so _much_ of it,” Hawkeye whined, in a tone that was equal parts wounded and defensive. He withered under the identical, admonishing looks leveled at him by his teammates. “Okay, okay. Fine. Point taken. So how do we fix it?”

“All right, team.” Steve strode to the head of the table, bracing his palms on the top. “One of our own needs our help. Any suggestions?”

“I might have a few.” Natasha stood beside Cap, motioning the others to join them at the table. “Listen up...”

* * *

Tony collapsed face-first onto the bed. He felt pathetic, sulking in his room like a teenager, but he just couldn't seem to scrounge up the energy for anything else. Also, if one more person needed a favor or a personal loan today, he might actually hang himself.

“That's it, JARVIS,” he sighed, words slightly muffled by the pillow. “I live here now. Call me if the world ends.”

“ _If you say so,_ _S_ _ir. Shall I dim the lights?”_

“Just shut them off. And block messages until I tell you. I'm not interested in the walls of pity text Rhodey and Pepper are probably sending me.”

There was a moment's hesitation before the AI spoke again. _“Is this not what you'd call a pity 'party?'”_

Tony lifted his head, just long enough to scowl at the ceiling. “Next time I want to program an AI with a sense of humor, talk me out of it, would you, J?”

There was unmistakable amusement in the AI's tone somehow, and yet, something decidedly gentle underneath. _“Certainly,_ _S_ _ir.”_

* * *

Falcon winced as he crouched by the door to Tony's room. He backed away carefully, making his way down the hallway and into the common area. Natasha, Steve, and Clint all stood waiting for him, wearing expectant expressions.

“Well?” Natasha questioned, tapping her foot in an uncharacteristic show of anxiety.

“In bed, with the lights off. At five p.m.” Sam winced. “This might be even worse than we thought.”

The Widow sighed, looking displeased, if not surprised. “Okay. We knew it was bad, we can work with this. Cap, this is where you come in. Go, work your charm.”

Steve scratched the back of his head. “I'll do anything to help Tony. You know that. But are you _sure_ I'm the right choice?”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “You're the only choice. Trust me.”

Steve raised a skeptical eyebrow, although even he couldn't mask the blush rising to his cheeks. “I'll let you know when phase two is a go. _If_ it is.” He made his way down the hallway toward Tony's room, shoulders back. Looking every inch the soldier he was.

Clint – who had been lounging up against the wall, stared silently after Cap. He sauntered up to Natasha, leaning against her shoulder with a disgusted shake of his head.

“Why doesn't one of them just bend the other over a table, or something?”

Natasha slapped him so hard, he ended up face first in the wall.

“Ow, _rude!”_

* * *

Barely any time at all seemed to have passed before Tony heard a soft knock on the door.

He suppressed a groan. Maybe if he stayed really quiet, they'd assume he was asleep and leave him the hell alone.

No dice. Another minute passed before a second knock reached his ears, louder this time. _“Tony? Are you awake?”_

And, of course, it just had to be Cap. Tony sighed, not bothering to remove his face from the pillow. “No.”

Steve chuckled. _“Can I come in?”_

Tony groaned. Anyone else he could have just ignored without feeling a twinge of remorse, but not Steve. No doubt, that was why the team sent him in the first place, because this had their meddling written all over it.

“If I say no, will you go away?”

A pause. The shuffling of feet. _“If that's what you really want. But I'm worried about you, Tony. I just needed to make sure you were okay.”_

 _Oof,_ he sounded like he actually meant that. Tony felt his resolve weaken.

He'd never admit it out loud, but it was...kind of nice, having somebody check up on him like this. Sure, he'd always had Rhodey and Pepper, but they'd known him for so long, they were pretty much obligated to make sure he didn't roll over and die. Steve was...different. For reasons he'd really rather not examine right now.

“I'm just peachy, Cap.”

Steve sighed heavily. _“Tony...”_

Ugh. God, it was like kicking a puppy.

“Fine.” Tony groaned as he rolled onto his side, pushing himself up the mattress a bit. “JARVIS, unlock the door. Lights up to twenty percent.”

The lock clicked, and moments later, Steve Rogers slid into the room, shutting the door securely behind him. He tentatively approached the bed – blue eyes so earnest, Tony had to look away.

“Well, here you are. As you can see, I'm doing great. Good talk. You can go now.”

Steve walked a few steps forward. He stood beside the bed, clasping his hands in front of him. He seemed unsure how to proceed. “Ms. Potts called. She was...looking for you.”

Ah. So that was what this was about.

“She told you.” It wasn't a question. Tony already knew the answer.

“Yeah.” Steve hesitated, reaching out to clasp his shoulder. “Tony...”

Tony cut him off, words clipped, almost waspish. “Whatever you're about to say, I don't want to hear it.”

The other man's words were soft, and filled with so much compassion, they made the lump in Tony's throat – the one he'd been trying to push down all day – rise up to choke him again. “It's okay to be upset, Tony.”

“Is it, though?” The words dripped like poison from his tongue. “It's been ten _years,_ Steve! Why can't I just get the fuck over it?”

Steve smiled; a sad little smile, if there ever was one. “My father died when I was very young. Sometimes, I can barely remember his face. His voice. Other times, the grief is still so raw, I can hardly breathe. But that's _okay,_ Tony. It feels like hell, and that's okay.”

“That is actually the most _not_ okay thing I can imagine.” Tony's voice cracked on the last word, and he clamped his mouth shut, horrified.

“I know.” Steve trailed his fingers down Tony's arm, clasping their hands together. “It's not supposed to be easy.”

Tony couldn't swallow the lump. He couldn't swallow it, no matter how many times he tried. His breath quickened, vision blurring before he knew what was happening. And by the time he figured it out, a tear had already escaped.

Oh, no. Oh, _God._

Tony jerked his hand away, pushing a startled Steve before the super soldier could so much as blink. “Nope. We're done here. Out.” The words wobbled, despite Tony's best efforts, and oh _fuck,_ this was happening.

“Tony-”

“God damn it, Steve! _Out!_ Now!” The word stuttered, trapped in Tony's throat. Trapped by the lump he couldn't swallow, and the tears streaming down his cheeks, because he couldn't stop them. The first sob escaped his lips, and he buried his face in the bed covers, trembling.

For a minute or two, Steve was silent – the only sound in the room being the harsh, choked-off breaths Tony tried desperately to stifle, even now.

Then the mattress dipped, and a strong hand carding through his hair was what broke him for good.

“I'm here.”

Another sob escaped; this one louder, and so much more violent, Tony thought it might split him in two. It hurt. God, he didn't think he'd ever hurt this much.

Jarvis was like a father to him, and Tony had done him _so_ wrong _._ He hadn't even cried at the _funeral._

He remembered the press commenting on it: Tony Stark, dry-eyed and dressed to the nines, every bit as cold and calculating as the famed Howard Stark had been. Standing tall and composed at the grave of the only man who'd ever loved him. The only man who'd deigned to give him the time of day, even if he _had_ been getting paid to do it.

Because that was what it always came down to, wasn't it? Money. Who had the most of it. The only people who ever thought Tony Stark was worth a damn were the people he _paid_ to care – and those who reaped the benefits of his fortune.

Steve pulled him closer. Tony let him. And for once, the great Tony Stark stopped fighting. His face crumpled and he sank like a stone, burying it in Steve's lap before he gave into the tears.

Tony let the sobs shake him – let them rip from his lungs until his chest hurt, and his body trembled under the strain. And Steve wrapped his arms around him. Draped himself over Tony's back.

It was a dangerous thing, this want. This need for Steve to hold him. Kiss him. Tease him. Wrap himself up in Tony, and shield him from the world – one that only ever wished him harm. And he knew it was just a matter of time before the good captain found something else to do. Before he discovered that everyone who'd ever spurned the name Stark was right about him, and drop him like so much trash.

Billionaire. Genius. Philanthropist. A man who had everything, and nothing to show for it.

He had no idea how long they sat – Tony had lost complete control over himself. But Steve's arms remained solid around him the whole time, an anchor when nothing else mattered, and they remained so until his cries tapered off into wounded, stuttering breaths, and finally, fell silent.

People always said they felt better after crying, but if anything, Tony just felt _worse –_ exhausted, and horrified.

Not only was he having the shittiest day ever: now, he had just sobbed himself into oblivion, in the arms of his best friend. His very attractive best friend, whom he hoped to have mind-blowing sex with one day, and being a weeping mess was not very conducive to seducing...

Tony's thoughts stuttered to a screeching halt when he felt a pair of lips press into his forehead. It was chaste, sweet, and quite possibly the most stupidly romantic thing he'd ever experienced in his life.

_...okay. I stand corrected._

“Better?” Steve's words were anxious, questioning, and Tony released a watery chuckle.

“No. Now I'm depressed, _and_ humiliated.”

Steve tapped him on the back of the head, voice stern. “Hey, now. None of that. You don't need to suffer alone. You've got the whole team at your back. I care about you. They _all_ do.”

Tony scoffed, shutting his eyes against the impending migraine he felt pounding between his eardrums. “Yeah. About my pocketbook, maybe.”

If Tony thought Steve sounded stern before, now his tone was downright _dangerous_. “Their abuse of _your_ power got out of hand, and they've been spoken to. But make no mistake, Tony. They may have funny ways of showing it, but each and every one of them would lay down their lives for you. You need us? We're there. On and off the battlefield, and don't you forget it. That kind of loyalty has nothing to do with your money, and everything to do with you. And we'd want you, even without all your toys, and the empire you've built.”

Tony's vision blurred as his eyes welled-up again. “Don't tease me like that, Cap.” He sniffled, wiping his face with his sleeve. “For a second, I almost believed you.”

Steve smiled softly, though his eyes were sad. “It's the truth. And one day, I'm gonna _make_ you believe it.”

“Is that a threat, 'Oh Captain, my Captain?'”

Steve reached out, brushing the hair out of Tony's eyes. “A promise.” He swiped past the lock screen on his phone, glancing back down at Tony as he typed out a message on the display. “Speaking of, you up for some company?”

“Steve, I absolutely, one-hundred percent am not leaving this room, and that is final.”

If anything, the other man's smirk only widened. “I didn't say you'd have to get up.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. He let the silence drag for a moment, worrying his lip between his teeth. As if on cue, a sharp knock on the door startled him from his thoughts. A sing-song voice shouted from behind it – so cheerfully, he immediately wanted to punch its owner in the face.

“ _Hello, pizza delivery guy!”_

Steve's lips quirked again as Tony turned his glare on the man. “Are you really trying to buy me off with pizza right now?”

The upturned corners of Steve's lips morphed into a full-on grin. “That depends. Is it working?”

Tony mulled it over, frowning as he side-eyed the door. “...what kind of pizza?”

The annoying, sing-song voice – belonging to one Mr. Hawkeye, he presumed, sang its reply again. _“Pepperoni and black olive! With stuffed crust!”_

His favorite. Of course. The genius scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Suck-up.”

“ _And this Lord of the Rings Trilogy isn't going to watch itself!”_

He was really laying it on thick. Tony groaned, flopping back down onto the mattress. He dared to snuggle into Steve's thigh, and his heart did an embarrassing little flip when the other man didn't shy away. Instead, he slipped an arm around Tony, tugging him more securely against his side.

“....I don't have to get up?”

Steve chuckled, running a hand through Tony's hair. “Nope.”

Tony felt his crushing depression lift just a bit, despite himself. His lips twitched. “There's a distinct lack of T.V. in here.” No point in having one, really. He only went to his room to sleep, and sometimes, not even then.

Another voice from the hallway – Falcon, this time. _“Not for long!”_

Tony did smile then, before could stop himself. “Are _all_ of you out there?”

A chorus of, _“yup,” “sure,”_ and _“present!”_ greeted his ears from the hallway.

For one brief, horrifying moment, his eyes burned again – that was three times in one day Tony cried or _almost_ cried, and he'd had just about enough of it. He cleared his throat, pleased when his voice came out mostly steady. “I hate you all. Fine. Get in here. Can't let perfectly good pizza go to waste.”

A series of whoops resounded from the hallway as the doors burst open.

Tony watched, bemused, as the team filed in one by one, each carrying an item they'd need and setting it up with surprising tact and coordination. When all was said and done and his entire team settled, they'd managed to bring in with them a flat screen television, a couple of couches, a huge stack of pizzas, and a mini-fridge.

Tony felt a flash of self-consciousness. He twitched against Steve's side, almost moving away before the other man seemed to read his mind, tightening his arm around him, and smiling down reassuringly.

The inventor watched the others warily, settling back down with a sigh. Truth be told, he didn't _want_ to move. Why did he care what they thought, anyway? They could say whatever they wanted. He was the one with a Steve-sized body pillow. Honestly, they should all be jealous.

“How much did all of this cost me, exactly?” Tony quipped, raising an eyebrow. “Not that I don't appreciate dinner and a show every once in a while.”

“Nothing. Don't worry about it.” Hawkeye waved a hand, plucking a credit card, and a set of papers from his pocket with a show of nonchalance. “Also, here. Took care of that bill for you.”

Tony snatched them from his hand with a weary sigh, scanning the payment confirmation and card number dismissively – until the _name_ on the card they'd processed payment from caught his eye.

“This...isn't my card.”

“Nope, sure isn't.” Clint quipped, snatching a box from the stack, and offering it to Tony. “Pizza?”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute. Back up.” Tony lifted himself off the mattress a bit, propping himself up against Steve's side. “Why would you do that? Just because I was...grouchy today, doesn't mean you should have to...”

“No, Tony. He's right,” Sam interjected, rubbing the back of his head. “It was wrong of us to use you.”

“But...I pay for things. I have to. Why else would you guys wanna be anywhere-” Tony froze, blood draining from his face. He clamped his mouth shut, but the damage was done. He'd already said too much.

Natasha and Steve each took turns glaring at their teammates, while Tony shrank back into Steve's side, feeling like death, and wishing with all his heart that it would take him.

Clint winced, shifting his feet uncomfortably. “Oof.”

Natasha quirked a brow at him. “Told you.”

“Guys...” Tony shook his head, fighting panic. “Come on, this is stupid. You don't have to do this, okay? A little bit of money is nothing to me, I _like_ taking care of you.” A flush crept up his cheeks at the admission, but he _needed_ them to understand.

“Does that not mean we should also care for you, friend Tony?” Thor cocked his head. “The way you do for us?”

“Yeah.” Hulk crossed his arms over his chest, looking as small as a green rage-monster possibly could. “You call me an Avenger. And you never yell at me for the things I smash.”

Sam spoke again, this time with so much guilt Tony could only gape. Especially when he found that guilt mirrored in each of their expressions. “You needed us today, and we blew it. And yeah, you could have talked to us about it, but...we're your friends. We should be able to see when you're struggling.”

No. _Damn_ it, how the fuck was Tony getting choked up again? He growled against the lump in his throat, pushing the tears back with a solid, ' _nope, no thank you.'_

“It's not up to you guys to babysit me when I'm depressed. That's why I don't talk about it, or about...Jarvis.” Tony swallowed hard, willing his voice not to break.

The name was harder to say than he could ever have imagined. It tasted like ashes on his tongue – and it was only then he realized he _hadn't_ said it. Not since the day he'd lost the man. Sure, he'd named his AI after him, but that was different. Despite the namesake, his computerized buddy was and always would be a separate entity.

Saying it with _Jarvis_ in mind was...

God, why was it so _hard?_

Steve brushed his knuckles against Tony's cheek. “You don't _have_ to talk about it to know that we're here for you. Count on that, okay?”

Tony didn't trust himself to open his mouth and not burst into tears for the second time that day, so he merely gave them a tight nod, snatching the pizza box Clint offered with a shaking hand. Steve, bless him, took it and balanced it on his leg, so that it would be in arm’s reach of Tony at all times. And he loved him, then. Loved all of them so much, he could burst with it.

That was how he ended the worst day ever: in the arms of his Captain, surrounded by people who – allegedly – loved him, too. Tony didn't even make it through the first movie before his eyelids felt heavy, and he was dozing, Steve still stroking his hair, team affectionately ribbing him from their places surrounding the bed.

And if one of them happened to get up at some point during the night, snapping a picture of Captain America and Iron Man, fast asleep in each other's embrace, well...when it ended up on social media, Tony would tell his PR people to let it slide.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, guys. First of all, thanks so much for reading! 
> 
> Avengers Assemble is such a delightful show. It's everything I wanted from the MCU and never got. And as sweet as it is that Tony just pays for all of their shit without even thinking about it, it kind of bothers me. I know he's a billionaire and all, but they just...expect it. You know? So, that's how this inspiration started, and it was mostly supposed to be fluff at first, truth be told.
> 
> I should have known better. None of my stories are capable of being exclusively fluff, but I'm happy with the turnout anyway.
> 
> Also, God, Steve and Tony are so fucking gay. It makes me so happy.


End file.
